


evolution

by cougarlips



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Background Malec, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Dot's perspective, Gen, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, POV Third Person, Recovery, this is me wanting to write about alec from an outsider's perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 16:37:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14140092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cougarlips/pseuds/cougarlips
Summary: She heard all about Alexander as he grew up. The prodigal son, the eldest Lightwood, the one to follow in his mother’s footsteps and become the Head of the New York Institute.





	evolution

When Dot thought of the name _Lightwood_ she thought of aristocracy and her mouth soured. The Lightwoods with their famous name and their wealth, who lord over their race even below the surface, maneuvering and sliding pieces into place to suit them and their wants – wants, not needs, because the Lightwoods _needed_ nothing.

She heard all about Alexander as he grew up. The prodigal son, the eldest Lightwood, the one to follow in his mother’s footsteps and become the Head of the New York Institute. Dot heard about him through the hushed sneers of other Warlocks, those sent to the Institute for some business or another. They saw Alexander training through the glass doors, or they saw him sit in on the meeting they themselves were so _graciously_ invited to. She even heard his named whispered from Jocelyn’s tongue sometimes, wondering how he was growing underneath the eyes of the Clave and under Maryse and Robert.

She remembered when _she_ saw him for the first time, one of the few times she ever walked the halls of the Institute. He sparred with Jace, the two moving so gracefully it was like a dance, only with real risk as she saw their swords tinted red and the blood-spattered mat under them. She remembered how Alexander moved less than Jace did, calculating his movements and executing them expertly where Jace truly danced around the mat. She remembered the way they moved in tandem, like they were two bodies but one mind, two puzzle pieces fit square into place. The air buzzed in the training room and Dot remembered feeling entranced by their energy, by _Alexander_ ’s energy, calm and assured and confident in his actions.

Dot also remembered how quickly the energy disappeared when Alexander faltered in his step for no apparent reason, allowing Jace into his guard and dealing what would have been a fatal wound in only milliseconds. How they threw their swords to the ground beside them and Jace laughed, eyes shut as he swigged his water and Alec followed a half second behind, watching the way Jace moved with eyes Dot recognised all too well.

But then she recalled how he sat in on her meeting with the Clave representatives only hours after and how he watched with cool eyes as they shut her down, refusing to even listen to her claims.

She always hoped Alexander would be different from his parents – like Jace, maybe, who had a talent for doing the exact opposite of what the Clave wanted him to do, or even like Isabelle who rejected the Clave’s ideals entirely. Instead, she only ever saw him as Maryse’s carbon copy, forced into her mold until he no longer had his own.

Dot never thought about Alexander Lightwood more than that.

Knowing all of this, it confused her that he would invest himself so deeply in her care after Valentine discarded her. Alexander Lightwood, Maryse Lightwood’s first-born son and protégé, well on his way to becoming the next Head of the New York Institute. Alexander Lightwood, with a worn and aged look in his eyes as he waited to hear the laundry list of her injuries and abnormalities courtesy of Valentine’s poisonous cocktail.

It wasn’t his exhaustion that shocked her, but instead the way he held himself so comfortably in Magnus’s home. The way he saw how she stiffened at his presence and let himself out immediately. The way he waited for Magnus outside of her temporary room and let the two Warlocks reunite and work through the magical check-up without his hovering over them.

But after Magnus finished his assessment, and she assured him she was _fine,_ and he could relay his verdict to Alexander ( _“_ Alec _is the least of my concerns right now,_ ” Magnus told her, and the nickname struck her, too, because when did Alexander Lightwood become just Alec?) she watched Magnus step out of her room. She could see through the door Magnus hadn’t quite shut completely the way Alexander embraced him in his arms, holding him so tight it was almost like he was trying to hold Magnus _together_.

The intimacy moved her, wiping away momentarily the horrors she endured because this was _Magnus_ , this was the man she loved once so many years ago, the man she perhaps _still_ loved, in the arms of not just anyone but _Alexander Lightwood_. It struck her because when she knew of Alexander so long ago he was just a boy – a boy forced to grow up too quickly, a boy who abandoned his childhood to appease his mother and his people. Alexander was a man who repressed himself so deeply she could feel it like a vice around her own heart when she saw him in that split second a separate room away.

She watched for a few more seconds. She watched Magnus lean back just enough to press his lips to Alexander’s shoulder, and then she watched Alexander press his own kiss onto Magnus’s temple. “ _She’s going to recover,_ ” she heard Magnus tell Alexander, and then Alexander’s sigh of relief and quiet, “ _Thank the Angel._ ”

His concern made her head spin and her chest ache, but this time there was a shred of hope amid her pain. This was Alexander Lightwood, son of Maryse and Robert Lightwood, so clearly in love with _Magnus Bane_ : a Downworlder, a _man_ , everything the Clave despised wrapped in one neat bow. Alexander was a man who she could _feel_ opening up, _letting_ himself open up, to feel, to care – doing the very thing he’d been raised to never do, to never let his emotions cloud his judgement.

Dot knew through Jocelyn and Luke how difficult it was to overcome the way the Clave raised them, how hard it was to move from a child soldier to someone who actively listened to their conscience and acted with their _hearts_ , not their _minds_ , and they were passing as humans, away from the direct influence of the Clave. But Alec – Alec was in constant physical contact with them, living underneath their noses and running his own operations both with and without their permission.

She could feel hope swelling in her chest at the sight of the two of them, at Magnus with his head buried in Alexander’s neck and Alexander with his arms wrapped around Magnus’s midsection. She couldn’t recall in her history a time when a Shadowhunter cared so deeply for a Downworlder, so much so that they were willing to put their own life and reputation on the line.

Finally, they had a chance for _real_ change to take place between the Nephilim and the Downworlders.

**Author's Note:**

> after the body swap episode of season 2 i realized how out of touch valentine and his crew were with the going ons of the clave and i really wanted to explore alec as a character from the perspective of someone who hadn't been in touch with him or their society. dot seemed like the best character to use for that, tbh.
> 
> im on tumblr as [@battlemagnus](https://battlemagnus.tumblr.com) and you can find the rebloggable version of this fic [here](https://battlemagnus.tumblr.com/post/172383344990/).


End file.
